


The Quality of Silence

by voleuse



Category: Lost
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-12
Updated: 2005-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd like something to understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quality of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during 1.11.

Sayid has been lying in the caves for a while, his bed a couple of heaped blankets in a shallow recess of stone. Whenever he finally manages to lie comfortably, the rock not jabbing into him, his leg gives an insistent throb, prompting him to begin another bout of discomfort.

The doctor, frazzled and absent, looks at his wound every few hours, checking for infection. Satisfied with the slowing trickle of blood, Jack prescribes an antibiotic, muttering, "It'll do the trick, but it's not as strong as the one--"

He chokes off, dashing a quick, haunted look at Sayid.

"Not as strong as the one Sawyer is taking," Sayid finishes, keeping his voice steady. "Thank you."

Jack backs away almost awkwardly. "I think Sun has something that will help with the wound. I'll ask her. Somehow." And then he's gone.

The next morning, Sayid wakes to the sound of grumbling pebbles. He opens his eyes, and Sun stands in the entrance of the cave, bearing a bowlful of pungent herbs.

"Sun."

She ducks her head and murmurs, a tumble of vowels that is both soothing and indecipherable to Sayid's ear. She raises the bowl and smiles.

Sayid nods, sitting up with difficulty. He draws the blanket aside, exposing the torn fabric of his trouser leg, and the makeshift bandages wrapped around his thigh.

Sun kneels beside him without meeting his eyes, unravels the bandages. As she dabs the mashed herbs against his wound, Sayid stills himself, trying not to wince as a stinging sensation builds itself around the edges of the gouge.

To distract himself, he watches her bowed head, the efficient scoop, smooth, and stutter of her fingers.

"It was a tree branch," he says.

She does not look up, only shakes her head. Finishes tending his wound and begins to bind it again, dropping a light touch on his knee when she slips the bandage under his leg.

"I know you speak English," he tries.

Her fingers fumble on the bandages, only slightly, but he was watching for it.

"It's something I learned to recognize when I was in the army," he continues after a moment. "My job was to...question suspected terrorists."

Still, she does not look up, though she finishes tying the bandage. She sits back on her heels, and he takes it as an invitation to continue.

"Some of them wouldn't talk because they didn't know anything." He pauses, catching the scents of blood and dust. He tells himself it's his bandages. "Some of them, however, knew things, and wished not to share them."

Sun's hands twist together, but that is all.

"After a time, I learned to recognize the difference," he explains. "The way a prisoner would set her jaw. The way another one would look at the ground when I spoke." He leans forward, not drawing close to Sun, but with the implication that he might. "I have seen you do these things when we speak to you."

She looks up, then, and stands. Turns away, walks.

"Sun." Sayid wants to grind his teeth, wants to shout, but most of all, he wants explanations.

She stops at the entrance of the cave, turns her head so that he can barely see her profile.

"Why?"

Her cheek curves as she smiles, and she answers him.

But he doesn't understand a word.


End file.
